


At the End of the Day

by pluto



Category: The Last Unicorn
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-20
Updated: 2004-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-08 20:41:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pluto/pseuds/pluto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of the day, Lir dreams of the Unicorn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the End of the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxysquid](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=foxysquid).



> Request fic for Foxysquid. The Request: a Last Unicorn piece! I'd prefer it involve the unicorn at least in some respect, but any of the other characters-- and be about memory and loss.

At the end of the day, he dreamed of her standing at the window, so pale and delicate as to be one of the clouds framed in the winter-like sky. He reached one of his hands towards her. Against the white light his fingers were now skeletal and twisted, somehow like the man who had not been his father, spotted with age and a bare hair's breadth from death.

_I remember you_, he said, hearing her words in his own.

The dream faded from his clouded vision, the light of her gone now and the room dimmed. He laid his hand upon his face, callused fingertip against the dimple in his nose where she had touched him with her horn. He dreamed of unicorns since her magic had called him back, unicorns dancing around him in the sea, dancing around him, running beside him. He dreamed of her and the scent of forest that always seemed to cling to her. She had changed something inside of him, with her love, with that brush of her horn and her magic on him, and it yearned for that wildness.

His eyes felt heavy as the last of her dream-self faded. There was nothing but dust swirling in the sunbeams. He sagged against the bed, the weight of so many years bearing him down under the covers worked with unicorn motifs. His renewed fit of coughing brought the heavy doors swinging open and creaking, old Molly Grue's daughter rushing in to attend him with damp cloths and arms still dripping floor water. As she wiped the spittle from his chin and soothed his furrowed brow, he thought how like Haggard he had become, happy only with his dreams of fleeting white horses crowned with radiant ivory horns.

"Schmendrick," he croaked, his throat and chest protesting each word. "Send for Schmendrick."

"The Magician?"

"Your father," Lir agreed, falling back against the pillows, tasting something like blood in his mouth.

"He came this morning," she said. Her voice was so soft he barely heard it, or perhaps he was slipping back into his welcome dreams. "I will fetch him for you."

He thought her departing footsteps were the thundering sounds of thousands of unicorn hooves beating down the bold arrogance of an aging mountain.

#

"Lir. Your majesty."

He woke with her name on his lips, as always, confused by the hand gently shaking him away.

"Prince Lir. Your Majesty, I'm here."

Schmendrick leaned over him, face still hairless and smooth, though his eyebrows were shaggy and white and his eyes filled with the wisdom of passing years. Lir raised his hand and clasped Schmendrick's. "Old friend." His mouth seemed too weary to form a smile.

"She was standing by that window." Lir reached out his hand towards the sunlight that poured into the room. "Watching the sea."

Schmendrick was silent, but he put his arms into his sleeves like many old Wizards did, and Lir wondered if he ever still juggled and acted the fool like he had once been.

"I'm dying." Lir looked up, saw unhappy agreement in Schmendrick's face. Molly Grue had passed away so many years ago, but it seemed in Schmendrick, the pain was always fresh. Lir wondered how many friends the Wizard was doomed to see to their graves before he met his own. "Have you found her?"

Schmendrick's returning smile was sad as he shook his head. "She never told me which woods were hers. The other unicorns don't remember. If they ever knew.... They have their woods, their birds and beasts and butterflies to look after, and little news passes between them." He sighed, shoulders sagging, and he spoke with less formality. "I guess that's what made it so easy for Haggard. I don't think I will find her, Lir."

"No, don't give up. If you can't find her, who can?" He gripped Schmendrick's hand so hard the other man flinched. "I only want to see her once more - tell her I love her still!" He broke into fits of coughing that made tears run down his cheeks, clutching at the heavy covers until it was over.

Schmendrick's eyes were sad. Lir saw the nearness of his death there.

"She knows."

He sagged against the bed and shut his eyes. The weight of his body felt like too much for his frail old bones to bear.

Schmendrick knelt close beside the bed, clutching Lir's hand and whispering quickly. "You must be strong. Go to her, Lir. Only you can find her now."

#

They dressed him in the armor he had worn as the young Prince, tassels of dragon's beard at his shoulders and the breastplate now overlarge on his wasted and bent body. He bore the pain as bravely as he could, but in the end they had to lash him elaborately to the saddle to keep him upright. Schmendrick held the Grue girl as she wept, and waved to Lir as he rode away without looking back.

As the roads rolled past him he counted the beats of his heart and the fleeing moments of his life. He dreamed the dream of the red bull and of the waves of unicorns, rippling over the mountainside, Amalthea somehow alone among them. At the end he lay near dead against the neck of his faithfully marching stallion, unable to reach his own waterskins, dreaming exclusively of her.

Now devoid of guidance his horse brought him to the edge of a cool wood, kneeling by a stream to drink and absently wander; he wished for the strength only to untie the knots that kept him seated and upright, to fall into the wet grass and die there. He wondered if this was a death worthy of heroes, and then he laughed: it was as good as any, for a man who had tormented dragons and rousted giants, for a man who had watched over a barren land and a rougher people. As his horse lay resting he let his eyes slip shut, and he found he had no regrets.

He thought before things slipped away that he dreamed of the Unicorn, welcoming him back to her at last.


End file.
